Page 139 of The Cradle of Ice
Relieved, Nyx turned away—until movement along the seafloor drew her eye back again. From this height, the full expanse of the reef glowed below. As she watched, the entire labyrinth lifted and shifted huge branches across the sand. The largest mass of reef rolled enough to expose a huge black eye, staring up at her, shining with silvery fire, watching her depart.
Then the eye sank away under a brow of rock and bone. The rest of its limbs, covered in coral, settled back to the sand.
She gaped at the vast spread of the reef, recognizing it now for what it really was: one ancient and massive Oshkapeer. The queen of them all. Maybe the very first. She pictured the ancient alchymist infusing raash’ke blood into a small tentacled beast.
Was this that same creature?
Either way, she understood why this Oshkapeer had been forged.
To be an undying sentinel against the darkness.
Nyx warmed her body and cast down one last message, imbuing it with all her gratitude, knowing the long vigil that this Dreamer had kept for ages on end.
Thank you …
55
DAAL KNEW SOMETHING was wrong when they reached the brighter water. Rather than being drawn to the surface and returned to the skiff, he and the others continued coursing through the seas, staying deep. The Dreamer that gripped Daal spun as it traveled, twirling all its black eyes, likely searching for threats.
Daal’s head swirled dizzily.
Still, he appreciated such caution when he caught a glimpse of a pod of pickkyns sweeping below him, undulating their long bodies. Thankfully, the large shadows vanished away.
The three of them sped onward, clutched by their caretakers.
Daal searched around.
Where are they taking us?
He imagined Graylin must be panicked, certain they were dead. But there was nothing Daal could do to rectify the matter. They were all at the mercy of the Oshkapeers.
Daal could not even fathom how long he and Nyx had been down here. It felt like a thousand lifetimes. He expected to find Iskar fallen into dusty ruins by the time they surfaced.
As they traveled, his head still throbbed, blurring all that had been shown him. So much history, so many lives. Most of it was already fading, like waking from a dream. He would try to grasp a piece only to have it dissolve away.
Maybe that’s for the best.
He could not possibly hold that entire history in his head without going mad. Still, the most important stories remained, etched deep into his bones. He knew the raash’ke had once been companions, working in harmony with the people of the Crèche. Until they were corrupted by a figure of bronze.
He twisted enough to see Shiya being hauled by a giant Oshkapeer.
Can she truly be trusted?
With no way of knowing, he turned back to the sweep of the seas. He caught sight of Nyx coursing on his left. He knew what preoccupied her mind and heart. While much had faded, he could still touch the love she felt for Bashaliia. It ached through him. He knew where she intended to go next.
It burned in his mind, a fiery map of a labyrinth that led to the Mouth of the World. That path was scorched in place, never to be forgotten. It felt so branded into him that he suspected even his children would know it.
This last thought crinkled his brow.
He wondered if that was what had happened to the first Nyssian—when Nys Pephia communed with the Dreamers centuries ago. While Daal felt all that history slipping away, perhaps Pephia was able to retain it. He didn’t know how that could be. Perhaps she was uniquely talented. Or maybe the Dreamers had changed her, like they had him, sculpting Pephia’s mind to be able to hold the entire history of the Crèche, to even pass it to future generations. The Nyssians certainly had the innate ability to sense those men who had the proper seed for their future daughters.
Daal shook his head, resigned that he would never know. It was all beyond him. Besides, he had enough to worry about. Most importantly—
Where are we being taken?
The answer came as they reached shallower water. The sandy seabed rose under them, forcing them to the surface.
Daal broke through the waves. Though blinded by the spray, he caught glimpses of high red cliffs and a white stretch of beach. Through his waterlogged ears, he heard distant music, even fainter laughter.
